


Hayride

by ChrissiHR



Series: It's the Great Countdown, Darcy Lewis [31]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Bucky James Dean, Candy Girl, Darcy Lewis is the fandom bicycle and I love it, Deaf Clint Barton, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Horny Teenagers, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, October 31, October Prompt Challenge, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Promptober, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, SHIP DARCY LEWIS WITH ALL THE THINGS, Semi-Public Sex, Sequel, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Under 10.000, new edition - Freeform, song prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 09:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12578672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrissiHR/pseuds/ChrissiHR
Summary: Night 31 ...in which twelve and a half months have passed since Sadie Hawkins, Clint and Bucky are torturing themselves with anticipation, and Darcy thinks there can’t be much sinning left to do. Clint and Bucky are happy to prove her wrong. (Sequel to Sadie Hawkins and Beach Party)





	Hayride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoenix_173](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_173/gifts).



> Part 1(!!!) of a prompt fic written for phoenix_173: Darcy/Bucky/Clint, Candy Girl by New Edition
> 
> Much gratitude and nubile virgins go to Zephrbabe for her assistance with this story and to Debbie at VintageDancer.com for her knowledge and assistance with period accurate clothing research. 
> 
> **There is a slightly different format for this prompt fic!** I want to write in this verse again, so I’m leaving this story open-ended. Part 2 is already underway, so don’t forget to **subscribe** to [The Many Loves of Darcy Lewis (1950s AU)](http://archiveofourown.org/series/849873) or this story, Hayride!

“C’mon, Darcy-girl. We’re gonna miss it!”

“Clint!” Darcy laughed, chasing after her boyfriend up the hay bale steps to claim two of the last three spots on the hayride with their group of friends. The whole senior class had come out to the campground at Mr. Coulson’s farm in the country for the senior hoedown and camp out, and the pep rally bonfire preceding the big Thanksgiving rivalry game that coming Wednesday afternoon against William & Mary Catholic Prep. Tonight, they kicked off the senior week festivities with a stroll through the nearby town’s fall festival and carnival, but the only way into town from the farm en masse was by way of Mr. Coulson’s many hay wagon shuttle trips.

Darcy grumbled with good humor at her fella, “There’ll be another wagon along in a few minutes to pick up everyone else. What’s your rush?” But she scurried after him as best she could in her lace-up hiking boots and thick, woolen knee socks, curling her lip in annoyance when bits of straw clung to the folds of her skirt and poked her tender skin through the knit stocking tops covering her knees.

Just as Darcy flicked open the quilt to cover their laps from the basket Clint carried for her, Bucky settled into the final seat on the wagon in their soft pallet of straw, accepting another blanket from Darcy’s basket with a distant smile of thanks, in case anyone who mattered watched them. Under the cover of rapidly darkening twilight, as their hay wagon pulled out of the campground and onto the long country lane, Bucky’s hand found Darcy’s under the higgledy-piggledy pile of blankets, skating down her hip to caress her shivering flank and bunch her long, plaid hiking kilt up above her knees.

“Oh, Bucky, no,” Darcy whispered, trembling when she realized what he had planned, but Bucky only chuckled, knowing all the chaperone eyes that would normally be watching them were left behind at the campground or milling around in town. This was his chance.

“You know you love it, doll-baby, but if you really mean it, I’ll stop right here.” He drew a light circle over the top of her knit stocking, making her shiver as apprehension melted away in the face of anticipation.

She shook her head ‘no’, but Bucky pressed, “ ‘No, you don’t want me to keep touching you’, or ‘no, don’t stop touching you’, honey?” he murmured into her curls, appearing to all the world as if he’d only leaned to close to say something to Clint over her head.

On her other side, Clint had much the same idea and, if she glanced up, she suspected she’d find her two fellas sharing a gloating smirk over her head when she moaned a long-suffering, “Don't sto-op,” and they snapped open the clasps on her sock garters and crowded her as close as they dared, surrounded by their classmates--close friends though they all were on this particular wagon ride. Goosebumps chased down her arms when her fellas each rolled down one of her cable-knit stockings to gain unfettered access to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

Darcy could only be grateful that, as seniors, they didn’t require constant supervision by the chaperones, according to the principal, who had more faith in the older students than was truly warranted under the circumstances.

Kitty-corner from Darcy, Tony and Pepper seemed to have the same idea, cuddling under a blanket and murmuring sweet nothings for each other’s ears only. Without half-trying, Darcy spotted a trio of knuckles moving under the thin cotton of Pepper’s peter pan blouse and thick cardigan sweater. To their right, Bucky’s best pal Steve sat in his own messy, straw pallet with a lap full of his favorite redhead, bookended on the other side by Natalie’s shadows, Sharon and Maria, who huddled every bit as close for warmth under a shared blanket as Darcy and her fellas. While she observed them, Steve set Natalie by his side, then untied and slipped off Natalie’s soft-soled ghillies to warm her chilled toes with his hand through her sporting argyles. Beside them, Bruce sat alone, content with his own company as ever, reading a dime store science fiction novel by the light of his little sportsman flashlight. His thick glasses slipped down his nose and his hair flopped into his eyes, but Bruce remained adorably oblivious to his slipshod appearance. Both Peters, Scott, Wanda, and Sam sat grouped together in the remaining corner of the hay wagon, talking over each other in a heated debate about which picture was likely to be playing when they all headed out to the drive-in Saturday to celebrate the football team’s inevitable win. Watching them made Darcy miss Thor and Jane. The couple were off visiting Jane’s Uncle Erik in West Chester for the week, exploring the campus Jane might be calling home for four years, but, thankfully, Darcy’s friends planned to be home in time for the holiday in a few days.

She giggled when Pepper squawked in surprise, yanking the blanket over her head to laugh loudly when all eyes fell on her. Tony, chagrined, tried to coax Pepper back out from under the blanket with promises to behave.

Darcy would believe it when she saw it.

Though she doubted even Tony was as brazen as her fellas. She stifled her own squeak of surprise when Bucky’s hand shifted under the eyelet lace trimming her warm, flannel-lined slip, stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh near the crease where it met her torso.

He leaned over to throw his arm around her shoulder as if trying to get Clint’s attention just to whisper in her ear. “You ‘member what I told you earlier?”

Squirming, she nodded, biting her lip when his fingers danced across her skin to comb through the downy pussyfur covering her cleft.

Because Bucky told her not to wear any panties and he usually had a good reason for that sort of thing, shameless as it was. Not that they’d gone all the way yet, but they’d managed everything else between saint and sinner in the past twelve months and some, near as she could tell.

When his finger slipped between her folds, drawing delicate strokes up and down her outer lips to pull her honey up and over and all around her button, she reevaluated her supposition that they'd done “everything else” and nearly forgot where she was, as well.

“ _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph_ ,” she swore under her breath, borrowing Bucky’s favorite blasphemy. Clint finally decided to get in on the fun then, and slipped a hand under her layers of sweater, blouse, and camisole to pluck at her nipple through the stiff bullet brassiere required to make the sweater fit right.

“So pretty for us like this, Darcy-girl. So sweet and wet, like cherry pie, doll-baby.” Clint nipped at her earlobe and she damn near cried out again when even more praise and filth spilled from his lips. He loved to wind her up and keep her on edge, so eager to please, primed and ready for whatever crazy idea he wanted to try with her next. 

And lord, but did Clint Barton come up with some doozies when he was of a mind. He always managed to talk her into the most daring situations, good manners and reputation be damned. With Clint, she felt  _alive_.

Bucky was usually her careful fellow, despite his outward appearance. Staid and steady, and looking to please her and himself and their fella any way he could—anything to make them happy.

But they’d been winding themselves up lately about things they deemed inappropriate to discuss in polite company, and these little episodes of reckless, public displays of affection had increased ten-fold in the past month.

They sure were worked up about  _something_.

“Clint,” Bucky hissed, waiting until their fella met his eye over Darcy’s trembling form. “Help ‘er out.” She just barely made out the silhouette of Bucky tipping his chin up and pursing his lips before Clint’s mouth covered hers.

He only gave her a moment to catch her breath, though, muttering, “Gotta keep quiet, Darcy-girl. You make all the quiet little cries and moans you need right here into my mouth, but don’t you draw any attention or someone will take notice of Bucky under your skirt and we don’t want that--do we, sweetheart?”

She shook her head no. Of course not. It wasn’t proper and, besides, they’d gone to so much trouble to make it look to all the world like Darcy and Clint dated exclusively this past year. She wore his pin and they went steady in all the most public ways that mattered, but when they were alone, they were a trio.

A triad, Thor called them.

Not that their steady triad had so many chances to be alone. Darcy lived at home with her very conservative folks and Clint lived in a cozy three-room flat with his brother over the hardware store and gun club in town. Bucky had, perhaps, the most privacy of the three, living in a small apartment across the hall from his bachelor Uncle Chester above his uncle’s auto service shop, but they never chanced it—only Clint ever visited Bucky at home and only then when Bucky's uncle was meant to be out late for the evening at his gentlemen's club or away for the whole of the weekend at his cabin at the rod & gun club in the country.

And the dugout down to the baseball field where they met in the hour before sunset most days only provided so much privacy for the fellas to get their hands up under Darcy’s blouse or down each other’s pants, and, one memorable time even, when they stretched her out on the bench between them on a warm summer night while the fireflies winked in the dark. They flipped up her skirt and took turns: one supporting her like a warm, kissy chair, and the other, kissing and mouthing wetly at her sex through her silky knickers. She shivered at the memory of the contrast between Clint’s warm jaw against her thigh and the cool breeze tickling parts of Darcy she’d only ever bared before in the privacy of her bedroom. Then he started up that damned filthy talking of his, murmuring into her skin all the things he longed to do to her someday, and his teeth grazed her tender button. Safe in Bucky’s arms, Darcy shattered into a million brilliant, diamond pieces under Clint’s clever mouth and knew what heaven must feel like, warm and safe and floaty between her fellas like she was.

Bucky’s strength of will was the only thing kept them from carting Darcy off between them to the privacy of the woods in the park that night and pushing her knickers aside to taste her honey at the source.

Some things, Bucky said, were worth waiting and winding yourself up for. Soon, he promised, though.

Darcy couldn’t wait to go to college and get away from her parents’ and their friends’ prying eyes. How she longed to wake in a cozy, attic apartment somewhere they could be together, curled between her fellas in her altogether with their warm, hard bodies pressed close.

She thanked her lucky stars for her Aunt Devlin whom she told every blessed secret and, in return, her aunt spoiled her deliciously with weekly parcel post packages overflowing all the finest French lace knickers and underthings to drive her fellas wild, in addition to giving her the kind of advice Darcy couldn’t ask of her ma under the circumstances. Aunt Devlin even sent Darcy money by wire so she could take the train over to Jersey City and call her aunt from the privacy of the phone booth inside the roller rink where no one knew her and talk about anything with her aunt at all, anytime she needed.

After his reminder to keep quiet on the hayride, Clint peppered apology kisses along the corner of Darcy’s mouth seconds before the arm behind her shoulders somehow became a firm hand sliding up the back of her blouse to unhook her brassiere.

“Ohh…” she breathed into Clint’s mouth when his fingers slid under her brassiere to thumb the hardened berry of her nipple as Bucky did the same to her button with his thumb and dipped one long finger between her nether lips, petting her plump, quivering pussy with teasing strokes.

“I can’t,” she whispered into Clint’s kiss, desperate, never more glad for the cover of darkness, if only she could keep down her voice. “I’ll cry out. I wanna be good,” she fretted, knowing how great the rewards could be if she succeeded.

But Clint couldn’t hear her and his attention to her nipple never wavered.

“You’ll be so good, doll-baby,” Bucky quietly assured her for them both. “If you’re real good for us now, we’ll take you somewhere private and quiet late tonight where you can make all the noise you like. We found a place,” he promised. “All you gotta do is be good right now. You can do it, princess.”

She whimpered, but nodded, sinking into the pallet of straw and Clint’s strong arms to stretch out and up, as if searching for more chaste kisses from her fella. Clint swallowed every stifled moan while Bucky pushed her shivering body to the peak over and over again, so many times she lost count, backing off the moment her muscles rippled around that long, diabolical finger within her.

“Please, please,” she finally whispered, jerking her head to the side to muffle the words against Clint’s cheek, all the while praying the others wouldn't hear her beg. “Bucky, please.”

At some silent signal of agreement, her fellas redoubled their efforts, thumbing and circling and pressing close under the blankets to make it look as if they’d just stretched out for a cuddly nap along the way to their destination.

But Darcy was already  _there_.

Mere moments passed and a swell of tight heat welled within her lower belly, rapidly expanding outward as she crested, babbling whispered words of adoration into Clint’s lips. She hung there in that wondrous place for long, decadent moments, held between her fellas so sweetly, slowly coming back to herself at the sound of Clint panting on one side and Bucky’s voice under her curls, telling her what a good girl she was for them, how beautiful was her face in the throes of passion by the light of the moon.

Lord above, but the angels sure did let Bucky Barnes get in line twice the day they handed out silver tongues.

**Author's Note:**

> This story marks the official end of Promptober 2017 for me! I DID IT! *snoopy-dances*
> 
> **Happy Halloween!**
> 
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